


Happy Birthday Sam

by Aria_Lerendeair



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotp, Dean and Sam brother feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sam Birthdays Through the Years, mention of thoughts of suicide, very lightly implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's Birthdays through the years and what they have been like for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday Sam

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was supposed to post this like three weeks ago, but I got stalled on it, so it didn't end up happening. But, thanks to the Sam's birthday celebrations I thought I would write the birthdays we DIDN'T know about (IE, Dean selling his soul, Dean being killed by hellhounds, etc). I might have messed up that timeline, but....I think I did it right! Woo!

 

 

 

 

 

1 Year Old

 

“Shhh, it’s okay Sammy, it’s okay.”  Dean juggled his screaming brother, holding him close against his chest.  

 

“Dean, shut him up!”  John snarled.  He turned back to the books.  

 

Dean bit down on his lip.  Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.  Big boys don’t cry.  Dad wouldn’t want him to cry.  He had to be strong for Sammy.  “‘m trying.  He’s just upset, or hungry.”  

 

John sighed and stood up.  “I’m sorry Dean.  I’m just tired.  Can you try taking him for a walk?  It’s warm out, maybe he’ll calm down.”  

 

Dean brightened and nodded.  “Okay.  Do we have any more formula for him?  He might be hungry.”  

 

“I’ll make some up.  Just take him on a walk for a few minutes?”  

 

Dean nodded again and kept bouncing his brother gently, carrying him out towards the Impala.  “See, that’s the Impala Sammy.  Someday I’ll own it and it’ll be just you and me, everywhere we go!  I’ll keep you safe too.  Nothin’ll ever hurt us.”  

 

Sam was finally starting to quiet and was cuddling against his chest.  He walked by the front desk of the motel and glanced at the date circled on the calendar.  May 1st.  Oh!  Dean looked down at the baby in his arms and felt his eyes tear up.  Mom wasn’t here to sing anymore.  He’d have to do it.  

 

“Happy birthday to you.  Happy birthday to you.  Happy birthday dear Sammy.  Happy birthday to you.”  Dean sang softly, pressing a kiss to Sammy’s forehead.  He’d finally stopped crying and was sucking his thumb.  Dean hiccuped and wiped at his eyes.  

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3 Years Old

 

“Dean!  Dean!”  

 

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, turning to Sam.  “Yes, Sammy?”  

 

“It’s my birfday!  Can I have cake?”  

 

Dean bit down on his lip and glanced towards the empty cupboards.  He’d have to try pickpocketing later after Sammy went to bed.  “I don’t have any cake Sammy.”  

 

He panicked when Sam’s eyes began to fill with tears.  Shit, shit, shit.  He had to figure out something.  Fast.  

 

“B-bu-but it’s my birfday…”  

 

“I know, I know it is Sammy.  But I don’t-”

 

“Please Dean?  Please?  Please?  Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”  

 

Dean deflated.  “All right Sammy.  I’ll find you some cake.”  His mind raced as he tried to think of somewhere he could get some kind of cake before Dad showed back up.  Anywhere.  

 

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!!”  Sammy shouted.  “Cake, cake, cake, cake!”  

 

Dean bit down on his lip and tried not to grin.  He could figure out some way to get Sam cake.  

 

Two hours later, his clothes in disarray, Dean held out the small box to Sammy.  He watched those eyes go wide as he opened the small box.  It’d been worth the almost-fight he’d gotten into to steal that twenty.  And he had enough to buy them food tomorrow.  “It’s even chocolate with chocolate icing.”  

 

“Just...just like Mom made you?”  

 

Dean nodded.  That was why he’d bought that slice.  He handed Sammy a plastic fork.  “Happy Birthday Sam.”  

 

Sam sat down next to Dean.  “We’ll share!”  

 

Dean clenched his eyes shut until the tears stopped threatening.  “Okay Sammy.  We’ll share.”  

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7 Years Old 

 

“Dean, what’s wrong?”  

 

Dean forced a smile to his face.  “Nothing’s wrong Sammy.”  

 

“Dad said he’d be home for my birthday.  Why isn’t he back yet?”  

 

Dean glanced towards the phone again.  “Don’t worry.  He’ll be back.  I’m sure he’s just running late.”  

 

Sam huffed.  “Dean!  What’s wrong?”  

 

“Nothing!”  Dean snapped and then sighed when Sam immediately sat down on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.  

 

“Dean…?”  

 

Dean looked up at Sam and sighed, opening his arms until Sam stepped closer and cuddled into his chest.  “Yeah, kid?”  

 

“Is Dad gonna be okay?”  

 

“Dad’ll be fine.  Come on.  Let’s curl up in bed and I’ll see if I can rig the TV so we can watch a movie.”  

 

Sam grinned.  “Okay.”  

 

Dean smiled.  “We’ll get you you proper birthday, don’t worry.”  

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12 Years Old

 

Dean glanced over at Sam on the other bed and worked at cleaning the gun.  Now that Sam knew, there was no need to hide everything from him.  “Get over here and help me you lazy ass.”  

 

“It’s my birthday.”  

 

“You don’t think I know that?  Get your ass over here.”  

 

Sam huffed.  “I’m taking a day off on my birthday.”  

 

“No such thing as a day off in our line of business.”  Dean said, tossing the oil rag at Sam, smirking when he started to sputter.  “Come on.  Needs to be done before Dad gets back.”  

 

Sam sighed and picked up the rag, getting up to walk over to the bed Dean was sitting on.  “Can we at least get food from somewhere that has a salad tonight?”  

 

Dean punched Sam in the shoulder.  “I suppose so.”  He went back to cleaning for a long moment and then grinned.  “Happy Birthday bitch!”  

 

Sam huffed.  “Jerk.”  

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15 Years Old

 

“This is such bullshit.”

 

“You’ve mentioned it.” Dean grumbled, hacking at another bush in front of him.  

 

Sam huffed.  “Why is it so cold?  It’s May!  Dad should have at least given us something other than our knives!”  

 

“That would negate the point of the exercise.  Now quit bitching.”  

 

Sam kicked at the next branch and followed his brother deeper into the woods.  They needed to find shelter before it got dark.  Last thing they needed was to spend another night in the open switching off keeping watch every hour.  So much for another birthday.  

 

Dean huffed.  “Come on.  We’re heading up towards the road.  Should be somewhere we can find shelter in for the night.”  

 

“Yeah.”  Sam grumbled and his stomach gave a loud growl.  Fuck being fifteen and always hungry.  This sucked.  

 

“Here.”  Dean held out a granola bar.  

 

Sam raised an eyebrow.  “What happened to all that ‘living off the land’ bullshit Dad spouted at us when he dropped us off?”  

 

Dean snorted.  “We’re in Minnesota.  There aren’t exactly fruit trees around here.  You want it or not?”  

 

He swiped the granola bar from Dean and grinned at it.  “Thanks Dean.”  

 

“Happy birthday.  Now, quit your bitching.”  

 

Sam opened the bar and took a large bite.  Maybe this wasn’t quite so bad.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18 Years Old

 

Sam stared at the early acceptance letter in his hands and looked around the room, chewing on his lip.  Stanford had offered him a full ride.  A full ride with housing and a stipend for food and living expenses.  

 

He swallowed and folded the letter into the tiniest version that he could, before stuffing it into his duffle.  Happy Birthday to him indeed.  

 

“Yo, Sammy!  I can’t keep this shit warm forever you know!”  Dean hollered.  

 

Sam glanced towards the door.  “Give me two seconds Dean!”  

 

“Hurry your shit up!”  

 

He had to let them know in two weeks or he lost his spot.  Sam bit down on his lip.  It was what he wanted but…

 

“Sam!”  

 

Sam rolled his eyes and opened the bedroom, stomping down the stairs so Dean would stop shouting for him already.  He turned the corner, about to shout at his brother for being a dick and a jerk when he caught sight of the birthday cake with a few candles in it sitting on the kitchen table.  He froze.  

 

“Finally you jackass.  If there is any wax on your cake from these damn candles, I do not want to hear you bitching about it, got it?”  Dean said, pointing the fork at Sam.  

 

Sam bit down on his lip hard.  Fuck.  

 

“Sam?”  

 

Sam grinned and stepped forward.  “If there’s any wax on the cake you can bet I am going to make sure you get those pieces!”  

 

“Sit your ass down before I drag you over here by that mop of hair of yours.”  Dean ordered, pointing at the seat in front of the cake.  “And shut the hell up or I won’t give you the beer I’ve got in the fridge.”  

 

“Aw, Dean….”  

 

“Don’t you aw, Dean me!”  Dean huffed, walking over to the fridge.  “What were you doing up there anyways?”  

 

Sam thought of the letter, stuffed in a corner of his bag and felt his stomach roll.  “Jerking off.”  

 

“Gross man, keep that shit to yourself!”  Dean said, shaking his head.  

 

“Why?  You never do!”  Sam shot back.  

 

Dean frozen and then laughed, his head falling back.  “Touche Sam, Touche.”  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21 Years Old

 

“Sam, come on, you can’t be late to your own party!!”  Jess said, tugging on Sam’s hand.  “We have to celebrate in style!”  

 

The last thing he felt like doing was celebrating.  All he could think about was Dean and Dad.  How this would have been his first “real” beer.  

 

“Sam?”  Jess’ voice turned hesitant and she reached out to touch his shoulder.  “We can just stay in if you want…”  She offered.  

 

His fingers itched.  Sam clenched his hand into a fist, sliding it under the table so Jess didn’t see and smiled for her.  “No, it’s okay.  You worked really hard on this and I want to celebrate with you.”  

 

Jess smiled and reached out to run her fingers through his hair.  “On the bright side…?”  

 

Sam raised an eyebrow and grinned at her.  “Hm?”  

 

“Well, we all know that you are a total lightweight.  You could just have a couple of beers, then hoist me over your shoulder and drag me off to have your wicked way with me!”  Jess teased, kissing Sam on the cheek, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.  

 

“And if you actually do drag me home and have your very wicked way with me, well.  I’m certainly not going to tell.”  

 

Sam grinned and turned his head, kissing Jess slow and proper.  He tugged her into his lap and watched her squeal, reaching out to tickle her.  “Want me to be a little rough tonight?”  He watched Jess’ eyes go dark and grinned at her.  “I think that’s a yes.”  

 

“That is a hell yes Mister Winchester and if you don’t get your butt up and out of that chair, we can forget about going to the party in the first place.”  Jess gave a little wiggle back into Sam’s lap, smirking when he groaned and stood up, walking towards the door.  “Come on now.”  

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22 Years Old

 

Sam tapped his pen on the windowsill of the Impala, staring down at the crossword puzzle in his lap.  Hm.  22-across.  Five letter word for….nah.  Different one.  

 

He tapped the pen against the windowsill again.  Hmm.  Fucking backwater crosswords.  Bet they’ve never even seen the New York Times one.  

 

5-down might be a...damn.  No.  That had to be wrong.  Sam tapped the pencil on the sill and huffed as he flipped it around in his hand and erased 10-across.  Couldn’t be right.  Dammit.  

 

He tapped the pencil against the edge of the paper.  

 

“Could you fucking stop with the tapping already?”  Dean snarled.  

 

Sam looked up and frowned.  “Just because I don’t sleep every single time I get in the passenger seat doesn’t mean I have to sit here and stare out the window.”  

 

“No, but it means you have to be less annoying or I am going to boot your ass to the curb.”  

 

Sam rolled his eyes.  “Oh fuck off Dean.  How about just asking me to stop tapping the pencil.”  

 

Dean clenched the steering wheel of the Impala tighter.  “What do you think I was doing in the first place?”  

 

“I think you were being irrationally angry because we haven’t had a lead on Dad in two weeks.  But that’s just my take on it.  Feel free to enlighten me otherwise.”  Sam crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the side of Dean’s head.  “Nothing to say to that?  Oh there’s a shocker.”  

 

“Fucking can it Sam.  Just because you don’t give two shits about Dad-”

 

“If I didn’t care do you think I’d be here?”  Sam snapped back, glaring at Dean.  “Because I don’t like what you’re fucking implying there Dean.”  

 

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Heaven forbid the world have something in it that Sam Winchester doesn’t like.  Smite it where it stands.”  

 

Sam snorted and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Fine.  I’ll just go to sleep.  Not like it fucking matters, and that’s exactly what you me to do.”  

 

“About time.”  Dean grumbled.  

 

Sam picked up the paper and stared at it again.  May 2nd.  He was twenty-two today.  Good to know that no one gave a shit.  He tossed the paper between them and closed his eyes. Whatever.  It didn’t matter.  Not anymore.  Clearly.  

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

25 Years Old

 

“Dean, we don’t have a choice!”  

 

“We always have a fucking choice, that’s why we’re still here!  We chose to say no!”  

 

Sam sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair.  “Look.  I get it.  I do.  I swear.  But if we do this, it’s over, all of it.  It’s done.”  

 

“So, what, you get to just toss yourself off a cliff and I go live happily ever after?  It doesn’t work like that Sam!”  Dean snarled, grabbing the bottle of Jack Daniels and storming out of the room.  

 

Sam dropped his face into his hands and clenched his eyes shut.  He sank down on the bed and sighed.  As much as Dean wanted to pretend they had a choice, this was the best option they had.  They had the four rings.  Gabriel had died for them.  If he did this, at least Dean survived.  Could move on.  Do what he had always wanted to do.  Live a different life with a family.  It would be better this way.  

 

He just had to be ready when the time came.  He couldn’t let Dean down.  Not again.  It would all be on him.  He had to be able to throw Lucifer off of him and into the cage.  Then, well.  Whatever happened, happened.  

 

He deserved it after all.  The boy with the demon blood.  He deserved whatever torture Lucifer and Michael could dish out.  Sam sighed.  He’d have to research the graveyard.  There would be an attempted showdown.  

 

Sam managed to get to his feet to shuffle over to the computer, lifting the lid and turning it on a moment later.  He squinted his eyes against the light before opening a browser.  No one else would die because of him.  No one.  

 

He would figure out how to best the devil.  And then he could die.  A notification popped up in the corner.  “Happy Birthday Sam Winchester.  Please complete your profile in Windows so we can send you your birthday prize.”  He X’d out of the window and turned his attention back to the browser.  Soon.  Soon.  

 

Sam sighed.  Then it would all be over.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29 Years Old

 

“Hey Sam, want to go grab food?”  Dean offered, reaching out for Sam’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.  

 

Sam grunted at Dean, only looking up from the computer for a moment.  “You can if you want.  I’m sure you’re itching to get out of here.”  

 

Dean frowned.  “Was hoping that you would come with me, actually.”  

 

“I should stay and research.  The sooner I get this shit done?  The sooner that we can get out of here.  Go ahead.  Get me whatever.”  

 

“What, no crazy-specific health bullshit that you have to make me write down to remember?  You feeling okay?”  Dean gave Sam’s shoulder a gentle shove and was pleased when a smile appeared, even if only for a moment.  

 

Sam sighed and pushed his hair out of his face.  “Yeah Dean.  Just tired.  Go grab food and hopefully I’ll have finished up here.”  

 

Dean nodded and ruffled Sam’s hair, watching him try to bat him away.  “All right.  I’ll be back in a little bit.”  He grabbed the keys off the table and whistled on his way out the door.  

 

Sam watched him go and waited until he heard the Impala pull out of the parking lot.  He let his head fall into his arms.  He just wanted to stop.  Stop hunting, stop arguing with Dean, stop traveling, everything.  

 

Every day there was one more monster to worry about now that the rules were all changing and they’d never be able to catch up.  They were either going to die trying or...well.  Die having accomplished what they wanted to.  There was only one end to the hunting lifestyle after all.  

 

Maybe after they finished cleaning up this latest mess, they could take a break.  They didn’t really have anywhere they could go, not anymore, but maybe they could just stop.  Just for a little bit.  He needed to stop.  

 

It was a struggle to lift his head off his arms when he heard the Impala pulling back into the parking lot.  Sam managed to get his computer powered up and ready by the time Dean walked back into the room.  Now Dean wouldn’t know the difference.  

 

“Here.”  Dean placed a bag in front of Sam and retreated to his bed to relax.  

 

Sam blinked and opened the bag, pulling out a salad and fruit cup, followed by a cupcake in a small, personalized box.  “Dean?”  

 

“It’s your birthday you shithead.  Now shut up and let me spoil you.”  Dean grumbled.  “Go eat your healthy shit and your stupid cake.  Only for you would I willingly buy cake instead of pie.”

 

Sam grabbed the cupcake and opened it first.  He smiled again, small and quick at Dean.  “Thanks Dean.”  

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

31 Years Old

  


Sam took another long sip out of the bottle and leaned back in his chair.  Happy Fucking Birthday to him.  Dean and Castiel had gone off to hunt down some ghouls that had been terrorizing some small town in Minnesota.  They’d be gone for another couple of days.  Plenty of time for him to wallow and wish he had the courage to just go find a cliff to walk off of.  

 

He was surprised that he could even sit here, where he’d (not him, not really him, how many times had Dean said that) killed Kevin.  Where he’d dragged Dean’s dead body down the stairs and into his bedroom.  Sam took another swig of the bottle and watched the vodka slosh back to the bottom.  He’d always been the prissy drinker, liking the burn of vodka more than the Jack Daniels Dean favoured.  

 

He should just end it.  Before anyone else died because of him.  Not for the first time, he wished that he hadn’t listened to Dean.  Hadn’t let Gadreel save him.  That he had just had the courage to look at Death and say that he was ready.  Ready to move on.  He should have.  Sam grabbed the bottle and gulped down several messy swallows, clenching his eyes shut.  

 

_I wish…_

“Do you?  Do you really?  Do you really wish that you had rather died Sammy?”  

 

Sam opened his eyes and stared at Gabriel, flopped across the table on his stomach, his chin cushioned in his palms.  Good thing he had practice with hallucinations.  “Yes.”  

 

Gabriel huffed.  “Liar.  You’re hurting and sad, but you don’t have a deathwish.”  

 

“Says the dead archangel who sacrificed himself for my brother and I to live.”  Sam sneered, sipping at the vodka again.  Bottle was almost empty.  

 

“What makes you think I actually died?”  Gabriel raised an eyebrow and stared at Sam who started to laugh.  That laugh was nothing like Sam’s proper laugh.  It was harsh and forced.  He frowned.  

 

Sam put down the bottle and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table, dropping his chin into his hands, mimicking Gabriel’s pose.  “Because it’s been almost four years and you’re still gone.  You’ve never said a peep.”  

 

“With good reason.”  Gabriel looked to the wall where the shadowed image of huge, broken and battered wings appeared.  “I got grounded.  Luckily, I didn’t have vessel issues.  And I’ve had money stashed in hundreds of banks for more years than I want to think about.”  

 

“So what, you dicked around on white sand beaches with topless models while we were fighting to save the rest of the angels?”  Sam snarled.  Anger felt good.  He’d been itching for a fight.  Anything to feel alive again.    

 

“Actually.”  Gabriel raised a finger.  “I rescued about fifteen different angels and was able to provide shelter for them.”  

 

Sam opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, an angry noise escaping him as he stared at Gabriel.  “Then why are you just showing up now?!”  

 

Gabriel dropped his hands to the table and stared at Sam, watching Sam’s shoulders heave as he tried to breathe.  “Because you wished that you would rather be dead than sitting here now.”  

 

“Oh, and you want to save me?”  Sam laughed and pushed his fingers through his hair.  

 

“Actually.” Gabriel said, his voice quiet.  “If you really wanted that, I was going to come and be the one to take your soul to heaven.”  

 

Sam froze mid-reach for the bottle and stared at Gabriel.  “Y-you, what?”  

 

Gabriel smiled.  “You deserve nothing less than the escort of an Archangel Sammy.  And with me there?  Nothing would happen to you.  You’d be in your heaven, happy as a clam, waiting for Dean to join you someday.”  

 

Sam swallowed, tears threatening.  He clenched his eyes shut so he didn’t have to look at the compassion in Gabriel’s eyes.  “I’d be happy?”  

 

“As happy as you can be without your soulmate with you, sure.”  Gabriel gave a shrug and smiled.  

 

Sam turned his back to Gabriel and pushed his hand through his hair.  “Dean would never forgive me.”  

 

Gabriel hummed, studying Sam.  “No, likely not.  He knows you’re stronger than that.  Like I do.”  

 

“I’m not strong Gabriel.  I’m not.  In fact, I’m so weak, I’m talking to the hallucination of an archangel who died to protect me.”  Sam laughed.  “The second hallucination of an archangel I’ve had to deal with, actually.”  He sobered up.  “You’re a lot nicer than Lucifer.”  

 

“I’m also not a hallucination, but you’re too drunk to care.”  Gabriel said, rolling onto his back on the table.

 

Sam walked towards the table again and sank into one of the chairs.  He slumped and stared up at the ceiling.  “I’m weak and worthless.”  

 

“You’re the strongest human I’ve ever met.  Including your brother in that assessment.”  Gabriel lifted his fingers and studied them.  

 

Sam laughed.  “How do you figure?”  

 

Gabriel lifted a finger.  “One.  You stopped the apocalypse.”  Another finger.  “Two.  You let my brother possess you, and you, his true vessel, who has more in common with him than any other human currently in existence were able to overcome him.  Overcome him and control him.  Think about that for a second.”  He paused before continuing.  

 

“And speaking of overcoming angels, thirdly, you were able to expel an angel with your sheer force of will when your soul was so weak you almost died.”  Gabriel held out another finger.  “Four, you survived the cage and have managed to live with the memories of it.”  He rolled off the table and stalked towards Sam, who was still staring at the ceiling.  

 

“And five?  You, Sam Winchester, who has lost every single person he has cared about in one way or another his entire life, still manages to be one of the brightest, most optimistic souls I have had the pleasure of encountering.  So try telling me you aren’t strong again.”  

 

Sam giggled and closed his eyes.  “Sounds like you’re in love with me.”  

 

Gabriel stared at Sam, silent for a long moment.  “I am...intrigued by you.  No other human is like you Sam.  You’re special.”  

 

Sam laughed and rubbed his eyes slowly, keeping his hands over them.  “Being special is what started this whole mess.  I’d like to not be special, for once.”  

 

Gabriel hummed.  “You would always be special.  Your soul, it’s light, would always be special.”  

 

Sam didn’t speak for a long time.  He kept his eyes covered.  “Hey Gabriel…?”  

 

“Yeah, kiddo?”  

 

“I really wish you hadn’t died.”  Sam whispered, taking another deep breath.  

 

Gabriel grinned and stepped closer, threading his fingers through Sam’s hair, combing slowly.  Sam immediately purred and pushed into his hand.  “Wish granted.  Happy Birthday Sam.”  

 

“Okay.”  Sam whispered, leaning into the calloused hand.  He could just fall asleep right here.  That would be good.  Perfect even.  

 

Gabriel snapped and in a moment, Sam was in his bed, tucked in, wearing his usual boxers and a t-shirt.  He smiled and settled into the chair by the door and snapped up a book.  “Sleep well Sam.  I’ll see you in the morning.”  

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hate it? Love it? Did I have someone remove their shirt twice? Let me know!
> 
> Comments and Criticisms welcome!
> 
> You can find me here: http://aria-lerendeair.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can also watch me write fics like this (and dozens of others) live! Follow me on Livestream for fics, shenanigans and a general all-around awesome time! http://new.livestream.com/accounts/7212317


End file.
